


Strange Friendship

by crylorenaissance



Category: IT (2017), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Eddie Stan and Mike made her get a job, Nightshade works at a salon in Derry, Other, because being pretty isn't a job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crylorenaissance/pseuds/crylorenaissance
Summary: Another late night idea I had recently. Also in the "Don't Talk to Monsters" series.





	Strange Friendship

There was nothing normal about Nightshade Waters. It was just a fact. She was a creature of the night who had needed a job. Well, Stan, Mike and Eddie made her find a job. After being fired or quitting seven others, she'd found the perfect one.

Nightshade worked at the local salon and day spa, doing hair, nails and makeup. The owner hadn't required her to have as much education as her peers since Nightshade actually knew more about all of her trades than some of her highly educated co-workers. People had been weary of the high school student with blue hair and stiletto nails at first. They all assumed she had the other employees fix her up.

One of her first few clients had been unexpected. Victor Criss had come in with his mother when she needed her hair done. His hair was in desperate need of being bleached. His roots were showing and he had started wearing a baseball cap to cover them. Nightshade had noticed at school a few days ago when Patrick Hockstetter had decided to give him shit over it. 

He had been waiting in the front and Nightshade was cleaning up her station when she noticed him walk past her and to his mom three stations over.

“You might as well get your hair bleached while we’re here. I'm sure the girl with blue hair will do it.”

Vic looked over with an expression of fear and confusion before his mother urged him to go over to her.

“Nightshade, are you busy?”

“No, what's up?”

“Do you have time to bleach my hair?”

“Of course! My next appointment is at four. Go check in at the front and tell them you're with me.”

To tell the truth, Nightshade didn't hate Victor. She didn't approve of his affiliation with Bowers, but he was better than the others. He hadn't hurt her the way the others had. He had once even gone as far as to warn Eddie that Bowers was after him one day after school.

“Alright, lose the hat.”

Vic’s natural color was very similar to Nightshade’s. It was a medium brown, before having a harsh divide into the platinum blond he had been dying it for years.

“You're in luck because I know exactly how long to get this back to platinum. Your color is almost the same as my natural color.”

Nightshade had had blue hair for so long that Vic had nearly forgotten about her brown hair. He had known pre-blue hair Nightshade, though. Dying her hair hadn’t had a direct correlation to people being afraid of her, but it made them notice that she wasn’t just somebody who decided to stand up to the Bowers gang. She was Nightshade Waters, fearless fighter with an eccentric sense of style.

“Sometimes Henry considers fighting you for his jacket,” Vic said out of nowhere.

“He’d lose.”

“I think that's why he avoids it. Don't know why he wants it back. You've had it since before you two even dated. It looked really bad on him anyway. It wasn't his color.”

Nightshade started brushing the dye onto the brown hair that was growing out. He was going to want it cut, too.

“Smart decision.”

“Patrick uses concealer and foundation to cover up the scars you left on his face that time you slashed it open.”

Ok, now that was some private information Vic  _ shouldn't _ be sharing with Nightshade. She had a suspicion that Hockstetter wore foundation. His skin was  _ too  _ perfect for a teenager. Also it wasn’t always blended all the way.

_ Fantastic. _

“Seriously?!”

“You think I would joke about that?”

“Oh my god! Do you know what brand he uses?”

“I don't know  _ that _ much. I  _ do  _ know he’s a rewards member at Ulta, though.”

Victor Criss was a dirty snitch on his friends and Nightshade loved it.

When she washed his hair, it was back to its normal platinum blond. Luckily, she knew exactly how he got his hair styled and wouldn't need to ask too many questions. While she cut and shaved to his liking, Vic told her more things about his friends. Henry flinched when Nightshade was nearby or when he heard her voice, Patrick’s mom dyed his hair in the kitchen to get it that dark, Belch knew nothing about any car besides his own.

All of it was fascinating. Should he have told her any of it? Absolutely not. Did he enjoy telling Nightshade all of this gossip? Fuck yeah, he did. She actually listened to what he said instead of being like his friends.

Mrs. Criss wasn't done with her appointment when Nightshade finished cleaning up her station and Vic gave her a rather generous tip.

“If you want, I can do a complimentary cosmetic treatment for you.”

“What kind of treatments can you do?”

“I can put fake eyelashes on you and groom your eyebrows. I have other treatments I can do, but maybe not on a day I know you'll be hanging out with the others.”

“Go for it.”

Nightshade opened a drawer at her station and pulled out the things she would need.

“I'll put on eyelashes that are slightly natural looking, I promise.”

“If you give me ones like yours, I'll tell you more.” Nightshade wore pretty extravagant fake eyelashes. It was obvious she was wearing them. Did he care, though? No. 

“You drive a hard bargain.”

Nightshade grabbed a different set from the drawer and started prepping them to fit properly.

“Hold very still.”

“Patrick has shitty eyesight and needs glasses. He wears contacts most days.”

“That explains all of the times he's walked into me and squinted to figure out what I was. I just thought he was high all those times.”

“Nope. He just can't fuckin’ see.”

Nightshade finished with his eyebrows as Mrs. Criss walked over to them.

“Ready to go, Vic?”

“Yep, Mom. Bye, Nightshade. Thanks!”

“Not a problem. Schedule an appointment with me in six weeks and come with more material.”

“You got it, Waters.”

After about an hour, Nightshade hit the realization. She was  _ friends  _ with Victor Criss.

“God fucking damn,” she muttered, seeing the TransAm drive by the front window of the salon.


End file.
